


And Light Breaks

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: Joe's Son by Mona Ramsey [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series, The Sentinel
Genre: Crossovers: Highlander, Drama, M/M, Series: Joes Son, crossovers, other pairing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-24
Updated: 2000-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Blair and Jim come to Seacouver for a visit, more secrets are revealed.<br/>This story is a sequel to The Shadows Fade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Light Breaks

 

## And Light Breaks

by Mona Ramsey

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/monaram/>

* * *

"And Light Breaks"  
by MonaR.  
monaram@yahoo.com

"Now where the hell - ?" Richie's expletive was cut off by the sharp ring of the phone. He was half-underneath the desk in Joe's back room, trying to retrieve the receipt that had magically disappeared off of the pile that he was organizing.

He managed to right himself and grab the phone before the fifth ring, but his greeting was rather breathless. "Joe's."

"Rich?"

"Yes." He paused for a moment, trying to place the voice. "Blair?"

"Hey."

"Well, it's about damn time!"

Blair laughed. "Yeah, I figured that you'd say that. It's been a hell of a couple of months, Rich. Is my - is Joe there?" Although they'd met several months before and had talked briefly a few times since then, Blair hadn't quite got used to the idea of calling Joe Dawson his father, yet.

"Not yet. We're not open for a couple of hours yet, I'm just taking care of some business stuff."

"I tried the house, and there was no answer, so I thought maybe - "

/Watcher business,/ Richie thought to himself. Into the phone he said, "He must be in transit somewhere. Nothing's wrong, is it?"

"Not with me, no."

"Not Jim?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just been busy, that's all, and we haven't had a chance to call or anything. I just wanted to talk to Joe, I guess. Touch base. I guess my timing is just off."

"I've got the perfect solution. Come up for the weekend."

"I don't know - "

"Blair, you said yourself that you want to talk to him. It's going to be better doing it in person than over the phone, anyway. And professors and cops get weekends off, don't they?"

"I'm only a teaching assistant."

"Fine. _Teaching assistants_ and cops get weekends off. So come up already."

"I don't know."

"You wouldn't have called if you didn't want to talk, Blair. Come on."

He could hear Blair smile at the other end of the phone. "Okay. I have to talk to Jim first, but if it's all right with him, we'll come."

"I have a feeling you'll be able to talk him into it," Richie said, grinning. "Call and let us know when to expect you."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later, Rich."

"'Bye, Blair." He hung up the phone, and bent down, barely missing the edge of the desk, in search of the wayward receipt. "I know you're down here somewhere - "

* * *

He was rubbing his eyes by the time Joe came into the room. "Finished already?"

"Just," Richie smiled. "Where were you?"

"I had something to take care of at headquarters. Why - is something wrong?"

"No. Blair called, and you missed him, that's all."

"Damn. Is anything wrong?"

Richie smiled. "We _do_ think alike. That's the first question I asked. Nothing's wrong, he just wanted to talk to you."

"Is he going to be home tonight? I could call him back."

"Actually, I think I convinced him to come up this weekend. He's supposed to talk to Jim and then get back to us."

"That's a great idea. I've missed talking with him."

"I know you have. That's why I suggested it. I know you said that we shouldn't push him, but I know that he wants to spend time with you, too. And it went so well the last time - "

Joe cut him off with a kiss. "You always have good ideas."

"I was thinking of telling him about me, too."

It was the first time that Richie had mentioned telling Blair about Immortality. "Are you sure about that, kid?"

"You don't think that it's too soon? I mean, I don't want to traumatize him, or anything, but I don't like keeping secrets, either. If they both know, then we won't have to be so careful about what we say around them."

"I think he can handle it, I'm just not so sure about what Duncan and the Old Man might think. Maybe we should talk to them about it before you make any big decisions."

"I don't have to tell them about Duncan and Methos. I don't have to tell them anything about anyone but me."

"True, but they're our friends, and they spend a lot of time here. It might be easier to just reveal everything, or keep everything quiet."

"I guess so. I'll talk to them."

* * *

He didn't have to wait long for the opportunity. Duncan and Methos arrived at the bar, as per their usual habits, late that evening.

"So the prodigal son returns?" Methos said, gazing at Joe. "And you want to come clean to him."

"It sounds like a good idea to me," Duncan said. "What's the problem?"

"According to Joe, _you_ are - the two of you," Richie replied.

"I didn't say that they were a problem," Joe qualified. "I said that if you plan on telling them everything, it's probably going to make things more open all around. Blair's a smart kid - "

"Takes after his father," Methos said.

Joe grimaced at him. "- and he's bound to take two and two that we give him and make four out of it."

"So you tell him about us."

It wasn't what Joe expected him to say. "It's that easy for you to decide?"

"Well, notwithstanding that Duncan practically has Immortal business cards taped to his forehead - " this drew laughs out of both Joe and Richie, and a threatening look from his lover " - he _is_ your son. I've only met him briefly, but he seems to make a hell of a case for the influence of genetics. He's a Dawson. I think he'll take it well."

"I told you," Richie said.

"Who am I to argue?" Joe asked. "If it's a consensus, then," Duncan nodded at him, "great. I have to say that I'll feel better being able to talk more openly to him. It's hard enough to deal with the fact that I've missed most of his life, without having to keep important parts of mine from him now."

Duncan couldn't hold it in any longer. "Immortal business cards?"

Methos smiled. "You know what I meant - "

"No, that's why I asked."

"Uh - drink! Anyone want a refill?" Methos got up and went behind the bar, Duncan following him closely, still pressuring him to explain his choice of words.

"It looks like one of those 'argue themselves into a frenzy' nights," Richie said, watching his two friends. "It's a good thing we closed early."

"I don't know," Joe said. "Maybe we should consider selling tickets."

"Giving odds?"

"Nah. It always turns out the same."

"True," Richie agreed. "Well, shall we go home?"

"Definitely." Joe stood and called out Duncan's name. "Catch." He tossed the keys neatly to the Scot. "Lock up when you're done, okay?" He and Richie headed for the door. "And don't drink all of my scotch."

* * *

Jim and Blair arrived in Seacouver early Friday evening. Several weeks earlier, Naomi had mailed Blair a care package of old photos that he'd been surprised to learn that she'd kept. Jim took great glee in looking over them. "Joe is going to love this stuff," he said. There were school photos, birthday shots, a few of he and Naomi together with one or another of Blair's "uncles". Jim held one of them up. "Oh, Chief," he laughed, "the long hair was definitely a good style choice."

Blair snatched the photo away from him, and looked at it. "Hey, I was only five. It's not my fault that Naomi had a particular fondness for bowl cuts that year. Things were tight, and she did it herself."

"It's cute," Jim said, backpedaling. "I guess I'm just used to you looking the way that you do now. You know, hippie-chic."

"One of these days I'm going to find your secret stash of personal stuff, you know," Blair said. "Then I'm going to torment you with your unsophisticated past."

"Okay, okay, I apologize. It was really great of Naomi to send this for Joe to see."

"I know," Blair agreed. "That's the only reason that I didn't destroy it all on sight." He packed everything back up in the box and closed the lid. "I hate having to play catch-up like this, though."

"You're getting a chance to know your father, Blair. That's something that a lot of people would be envious of, including me."

"But you grew up with your family."

"I saw him every day for eighteen years, and I don't think I can honestly say that I ever really knew him. We weren't like that. I didn't know anything about the man that he was until after he died."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't know. You never talk about what it was like for you as a kid." Blair moved a little closer to his lover.

"Because there's nothing to say. Richie was right, you know - I almost know how he feels. I'd never push you into doing anything that you didn't want to, Chief, but I've really wanted to, lately." He hugged Blair, kissing his curls. "Do this."

"You got it, Big Guy."

* * *

Blair was pleased to feel, when he walked into the bar, that it had been only hours instead of weeks since he'd last left. Joe and Richie were there, as well as Duncan MacLeod and Adam Pierson. He and Jim had met the couple the last time they'd been in Seacouver, and were privy to the close relationship between the four friends.

Duncan was gregarious and friendly, very easy to like. He and Jim got along very well almost immediately - Blair would have called them both 'men's men.' Adam was harder to peg, slightly evasive at times, and had eyes that seemed years older than the rest of his youthful appearance. He was also fiercely intelligent, and Blair had liked him on sight. It was good to find another kindred spirit in the world.

If he and Jim - and Duncan and Adam - were proof of the theory that opposites attract, Joe and Richie were an equally strong argument for the complementary point. They were so alike in temperament that it was amazing to Blair that they hadn't found each other earlier in their friendship - both were utterly loyal, quietly passionate, and absolutely head-over-heels in love with each other. They seemed almost unconscious of their closeness, touching each other easily and without a thought - clasping hands, kissing, or just resting a hand on a shoulder or knee. Or, as they were when he and Jim went through the door of the bar - sitting together with the other two at a table, listening to a visiting band play, Richie with his head resting on Joe's shoulder.

It was good to be back. Blair wondered what had taken him so long to figure that out.

* * *

Joe closed the bar after a single set, and the six of them sat talking casually for several hours.

"I found that other picture of your grandmother that I was telling you about," Joe said at length. "Did we bring it?"

"It's in the back of the car," Richie said, standing up. "I'll go get it."

He stepped out into the cool night and pulled his coat a little tighter around him. The weather reports were calling for snow sometime during the weekend, and he wouldn't be a bit surprised if it started tonight.

He crossed the street to where he'd parked the car, and was just unlocking the door when the unmistakable prickle of Presence brushed his mind. He turned immediately, hoping that it might just be Duncan or Methos come out of the bar, but his hope soon disappeared when he found himself face-to-face with an unfamiliar Immortal, sword in hand. He held up his hands. "Hey, look, I don't have any fight with you, man. Why don't we just leave it alone?"

"Are you afraid to fight?" the other Immortal sneered. "I haven't taken a coward in a long time."

Richie sighed and drew his sword. "Where?"

The other man pointed down the darkened street. "There's an alley over there," he said.

"Fine," Richie said and prepared to follow the other man.

* * *

Back in the bar, Jim was enjoying the increasingly embarrassing stories that Blair was telling Joe, trying to out-match him for revelations. He was laughing so hard he thought he'd cry. He'd never seen Blair drink significantly before, and, although he knew that Blair was far from intoxicated, he was definitely feeling no pain.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar noise caught on the very edge of his mind. He dialled up his hearing, until it came through clearly - it sounded like the clash of metal on metal, and it was coming from somewhere outside the bar, where Richie had just left.

Blair caught his eye and stopped talking mid-anecdote. "Jim? Anything wrong?"

"No, Chief," he said. "I think I'll just go and get a breath of air and see if Rich needs a hand."

A significant glance passed between Duncan and Methos. Duncan put down his glass. "That sounds like a good idea," he said. "I think I'll join you."

There was nothing that he could say to dissuade him without revealing what he'd heard, so Jim merely nodded and stood up.

Methos gave Duncan's hand a gentle touch under the table, and urged Blair, "I'd like to hear the end of that story."

"So would I," Joe added. He knew that Duncan would take care of the kid, if there was anything wrong.

* * *

There was no immediate sight of Richie, so Jim turned up his hearing again. The metallic noise had stopped, and he strained to identify a heartbeat. There it was, coming from down the street. He headed off, peripherally aware that Duncan was at his heels.

"Richie?" The path led to a lot about two blocks away from the bar. He lost the tell-tale beat, and had to strain to hear it again. Duncan passed him while he was listening. He clearly heard Duncan's sharp intake of breath, and moved around him.

There was two dark shadows crumpled on the ground. He'd picked up a pulse again, but only one, which meant that one of the figures had to be dead. He only hoped that it wasn't Richie. There didn't seem to be anyone else around anywhere.

Duncan was kneeling down by one of the figures. As Jim approached, he could see that it was Richie. But that wasn't the worst of it. The other figure was -

"Jesus Christ!" Jim drew his gun and scanned the lot for any other of what he presumed were Richie and the unknown man's attackers. When he failed to detect anyone either by sight or sound, he knelt down beside Richie and touched his neck.

No pulse.

Not trusting his first check, he held the young man's wrist. Still nothing. He dialled up his hearing again, and realized that the heartbeat that he'd heard before wasn't Richie's, but Duncan's.

"He's dead," Jim said, incredulously. There didn't seem to be a mark on him other than a bloody scar on one thigh, but there was no pulse, and he wasn't breathing. He pulled out his cell phone. "We have to call paramedics. Do you know CPR? We have to try and get him breathing again - "

He was completely unprepared for Duncan to pull Richie into his arms and start walking away with him. "We have to get him into the bar," he said, his accent coming through strongly.

"You can't move him!" Jim said, trying to stop him. "We have to leave him here - the police - we have to - "

"What we have to do is get him inside. He's not dead. Trust me, detective, he's going to be fine."

"He's not fine! He's dead!"

Methos had emerged without either of them even realizing it, and he took Jim's arm. "Trust him, James," he said, in his soft but authoritative voice. "Come inside, and we'll explain everything."

Blair was standing in the doorway of the bar, and he looked horrified when he saw Duncan carrying Richie. "What happened?" he asked Jim.

"Somebody attacked him, and - " He turned to Joe, his eyes pained. "He's got no pulse, and he isn't breathing. We shouldn't have moved him."

To his great surprise, instead of reacting hysterically, Joe immediately went behind the bar and made a telephone call. He was talking low, but Jim turned up his hearing in time to hear the cryptic message that he gave to whoever was on the other end of the line. All Joe said was a number that sounded like some sort of code, and gave the address of the lot where they'd found Richie.

He was starting to believe that everyone had gone absolutely crazy. Either that, or he was dreaming. He took another look at the still body of Richie Ryan, lying across two of the bar's tables, and fervently hoped that he was dreaming.

Methos was looking at the scar on Richie's thigh, and checking him for any other wounds. "He didn't lose enough blood from this," he said, indicating the cut, "and there's no other sign of entry."

"It must have been the Quickening," Duncan said.

"Which means that whoever the guy was, to have enough power to knock the kid out like this, he was old," Joe finished. He'd taken Richie's hand briefly, but rested it back down on the table.

"Very old," Methos agreed. "What did he look like?"

"It was a little hard to tell," Duncan said. "Joe should be able to find out who he was when - "

Jim finally couldn't stand any more of the cryptic conversation going on around him. "Not to interrupt you or anything," he said, "but just what the hell is going on here?"

Joe glanced at the two standing Immortals. "I figured that we'd have to have this conversation sooner or later, but I was hoping that it would be under different circumstances. Richie isn't dead."

Blair was just as incredulous as Jim. "But he - "

"Maybe if we all sit down and discuss this rationally," Methos suggested. "I think some coffee might be a good idea. I'll go get it."

"Yeah." Joe sat down heavily in one of the chairs at the next table. He didn't look at Richie's still form any more than he could bear. Even knowing that the kid would come back, it wasn't easy to see him. "It isn't even really my place to say anything," he said. "I don't know - "

"Go ahead, Joe," Duncan said. "It's fine."

"Yes," Methos added. "Explain it to them."

* * *

They'd drank most of the pot of coffee before Joe had got halfway through the story. Richie was just beginning to stir. The entire room stilled as they heard him take a single gasping breath.

Even though they'd begun to explain Immortality to him, Jim was still stunned when he realized that Richie was, indeed, coming back to life. It was incredible, and if he hadn't seen it with his own two eyes, he never would have believed it. Something had been nagging him in the back of his mind, too, and he finally realized what it was. "His heart is beating," he said, unaware that he'd spoken aloud.

Duncan nodded. Methos was a little more aware of the significance of what the detective had said. "It seems that you've got extraordinary ears, detective," he said, quietly.

Jim looked at him for a moment, startled, then broke into a half a grin. "Hell, if I can believe in Immortals, I suppose the possibility of you believing in Sentinels isn't too much to ask, is it?"

"Sentinels?" Duncan asked.

"Another long story, I believe," Methos said.

Blair had stood up and walked over to where Richie was. He'd been quiet through Joe's entire narrative, very unlike him. "Oh, my god. You're really alive. Are you all right?"

"I've been better," Richie said, clutching his chest. "What happened?"

"The Immortal you were fighting," Duncan said, "apparently his Quickening was strong enough to kill you, Rich. Do you know who he was?"

Richie shook his head. "He didn't tell me. He didn't even fight very well, considering his attitude. It was almost like he wanted to die."

"He wouldn't be the first," Methos said.

"Why would anyone who could live forever ever want to die?" Blair asked.

Methos smiled. "Sometimes forever is a very long time indeed."

"You said that you were older than I thought you were," Blair said to Richie. "How - "

"We're about the same age," Richie said. "I only 'died' a few years ago."

"And the rest of you? Are you all - "

"Adam and I are," Duncan nodded. "You being Joe's son let him out of the club. Immortals can't have children."

"Can anyone become Immortal?"

"Nobody knows how or why," Methos said. "You either are, or you aren't, and you're born that way. We can tell each other through a special type of extra sense, if you will. Which reminds me, I believe Jim was about to tell us something rather interesting on the topic of senses."

"You know about Sentinels, don't you?" Blair asked.

"I've heard of them, yes. I've even met one or two in my life. One man, in particular, had extraordinary sight perception. You have more than sight, though, don't you, Jim? You _heard_ what happened to Richie. and that's how you knew to go after him."

Jim nodded. "Yes, I did. It looks as though this is a night for true confessions, isn't it?"

* * *

They traded questions and answers for another half-hour, and could have gone on for most of the night, only breaking up when Joe said he'd take Richie home to rest. He looked a lot better than he had when Duncan had brought him in - unbelievably better, but the powerful Quickening had taken a toll on him. Methos said that the best thing to encourage healing was a good night's sleep.

Joe and Richie went to bed as soon as they got to the house. Blair and Jim turned in, too. Jim sat in the bed and watched his lover pace.

"This is incredible, Jim. I just can't believe it." He sat on the edge of the bed, cross-legged, wide awake. "I thought that I'd seen a lot in my life - I mean, _you_ alone are amazing to behold. And now all of this? It's unbelievable." He stood up to pace some more, but Jim grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bed.

"Amazing? Yes. And it will still be amazing in the morning. I'm beat, Chief. I've got to get some sleep, and you buzzing on all of this energy isn't exactly conducive to that happening."

"I can't just _sleep_ , Big Guy. It's too much to process - "

"True. Too much for one night. So we sleep tonight, and tomorrow you can blow some brain cells talking their ears off. Deal?"

Blair sighed, realizing that he wasn't going to win this argument. Jim would just lock him out of the room, and he'd be stuck alone on the couch all night. It had happened to him before when he couldn't sleep - every toss and turn would drive Jim crazy. "Deal."

Jim laughed. "Don't look so hard-done-by, Chief." He held out his arms. "C'mere."

"Are you going to sing me a lullaby?"

"I have a better idea. Something that always put you to sleep. . ."

* * *

Early the next morning, the house quiet, Blair walked into the kitchen to find Richie already up, cup of coffee in hand, staring out the window into the backyard. He poured himself a cup. "You look pretty good for a dead man."

Richie shot him a smile, which quickly faded. "There's something about waking up in Joe's arms that always makes me feel a lot more alive."

Blair nodded. "Don't think about it," he said, after a moment.

"What?"

"Don't think about what it's going to be like when you wake up and he's not there anymore." Richie looked at him in surprise, but Blair just shrugged. "I know. I'm in love with a cop who s fifteen years older than me. Our prospects aren't that great, either."

"I never thought about it like that."

"I suppose it s different for you. I mean, you could live a thousand years."

"Or five thousand," Richie agreed. "I just keep telling myself that no matter how long I live, I will never forget him." He rubbed his eyes, and set his empty mug in the sink. "I should go have a shower."

"Yeah, me too."

"Oh, and Blair - thanks."

Blair smiled. "No problem."

* * *

Joe was just waking up when he wandered back into the bedroom. Instead of heading directly for the bathroom, he detoured and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Do I smell coffee?" Joe asked.

"Uh-huh." Richie grinned, and started peeling off his t-shirt.

"Breakfast?"

"Later." His boxers landed on the floor, and he slid under the covers, stretching out and resting with his head on Joe's chest. He listened to the steady beat of his heart for a few minutes.

"It wasn't me lying in that alley last night, you know."

"I know. I'm so- " His words were cut off by Joe's mouth.

"You don't have to apologize. I know that what happened wasn't your idea." Joe smiled, sliding his hands down Richie's back. "The world would be a much better place if we could control other people's actions."

"Tell me about it." He tenderly teased one of Joe's nipples, smiling at the tremor he could feel run through his lover's body.

"Don't you think maybe we should curb this until our guests leave?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Joe said, grinning, "you have to remember that Jim has some extraordinary senses - "

Richie's jaw dropped down. "I never even thought of that. You don't think that he - oh, man! He's probably heard us every time we - "

"Good point. We weren't exactly celibate the last time that they were here, were we?"

Richie shook his head.

"Oh, to hell with it."

* * *

"Are you finally up?"

Jim rolled over in the bed, and pinned his lover down underneath him. "And what if I am?"

"Ooh - you're frisky this morning," Blair laughed. "Aren't you afraid that they'll hear us?"

"Are you kidding me? We're lucky that they ever get out of bed at all."

"Ah, to be young and in love."

"And we are - ?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. _I'm_ still young." That got Blair his arms pinned down and his lover looming over him. "Hey!"

"You may be young, Chief, but I'm spry, and I have unusual abilities."

"Such as?"

"The ability to tickle anthropologists until they agree to do my every bidding."

Blair's smile faded. "You wouldn't."

Jim grinned. "Wouldn't I?"

Thinking a second, Blair pleaded, "Okay, you would. But you don't have to bother - I'll do anything you want."

Jim raised an eyebrow at him, considering. "Well - maybe." He rolled over and lay on his back. "Convince me."

"Slavedriver."

"Hey, I gave you a choice."

"Some choice." Blair kissed him deeply. "It's a good thing that I love you so much, you know."

"I've always known that that's a good thing, Chief."

* * *

The phone ringing roused Richie from a light sleep. He could hear Joe in the shower before he picked up. "Hello?"

"You weren't still asleep, were you?"

"It's okay, Mac. I was just recovering."

"Recov- " Richie could hear Duncan pause, and checked his laugh. "Ah, I could call back later."

"It's fine, really."

"And you're fine?"

"Wonderful. Don't worry about it, Mac. Joe always takes good care of me."

"I just wanted to make sure."

"Thanks. Are you guys still coming for dinner tonight?"

"You still want us to? I thought you might want a quiet evening, after last night."

"I think Blair would go _there_ if you didn't come over. He's still got a million questions, and who better to ask then you and Methos?"

"Right. Okay. Six?"

"Perfect. Oh, and Mac? Thanks again."

"For what?"

"For making me not so jealous of Blair and Joe."

He heard Duncan smile. "Not a problem, Rich."

The End  
MonaR.


End file.
